Fallen Rising
by vertigochild13
Summary: Aariel and Azrael are Meta humans working for two very different sides in the war against Brainiac. While Azrael is a no nonsense brawler under command of the Joker, Aariel is lazy, and slightly depressed mess working for Batman. When the two meet one night under the streets of Gotham, their entire lives flip, and when they keep meeting, things only get worse...
1. Chapter 0: Human

Chapter Zero: Human

_It was strange when it all happened. None of us knew what to expect, or what would become of us. The human race, mankind, the species that created the planet the way it is today, for better or for worse. We had no idea, and that was frightening. Some people died. A lot of people died, actually. The exobytes would dig into our skin and through our cells and reshape them. Some people couldn't handle the change and their bodies rejected it, like my parents. My little brother, Josh, and I could, though. We accepted the new cells and our bodies changed into something greater than what they used to be. Something no longer human. So, would that mean the human race would be wiped out?_

_I don't know where my little brother is. We got separated on a Brainiac harvester ship. Superman found me there, and he saved me. We couldn't find my little brother. Superman took me to the Watchtower over the Earth, where all of the heroes were and were all of these new humans – Meta Humans, we were called – were trained. It was a war now, and whether we liked it or not, we were drafted into it. We had these exobytes, and we had to use them for something. No one would want to be caught with big wings on their backs and selling burgers, now would they? No, instead we were trained to fight Brainiac's robots, and the other villains that plagued the world. Lex Luthor, Circe, and the Joker. They saved their own share of Meta Humans as well, who worked for them. Really, it seems like everything evened out still. Just as many good guys as bad guys. Just as many problems in the world for everyone to take care of. Only now there are greater things at stake. Our lives. Our planet. Our own humanity. _

_Can we even be considered human, anymore? Our DNA has been shifted so much, some of us don't even look human. We look more animal, or alien. Some of us have blue skin, some of us glow. We have wings, like me, and dark eyes. We look frightening, or even down right silly. But many of us no longer look like who we used to be. We don't look human, so some people treat us like we're not. They're scared of us, because we're different and not all good. I understand where they come from. I have a hard time trusting other Metas. It's not natural, of course, and it's scary, but the best thing we can do is just try to convince people that most of us – I hope it's most of us – are actually trying to help. I still think I'm human. I bleed, I can laugh and cry. I mourn for my parents and for my little brother, who I'm looking for. I've lost many friends, my best friend in fact. He died from the exobytes. _

_But maybe one day, things will go back to normal. Or maybe everyone will change and just evolve. Become a different kind of human, but human still. Because I know I am. I used to be just like you, and even if I can do a few different things, that doesn't mean I don't feel anything any different than before. The world is a lot colder, now, a lot scarier. And everyone has to toughen up for it, or else we'll freeze to death, or burn in the fires that are keeping us warm. Human, Meta Human, or otherwise. _


	2. Chapter 1: Azrael

Chapter One: Azrael

The cops in Gotham were getting smarter, but they still kept sending rookies out to stop whatever the Joker's antics were. Azrael didn't understand why they bothered to keep trying. He'd kill anyone that got in his way, he'd proved this to the Gotham P.D. on several occasions. Yet, they still sent cops towards him, and on the Joker's command he'd wipe them all out. And, yes, they were all mostly rookies. That's what happens when you kill most of the older officers. They have to keep pulling in new guys who didn't know what they were doing. It was a bad time to be a cop.

He dug through a dead cop's pockets, searching for money or any information they might have on what he'd been up to. The Joker wanted to see how much they knew about the poison he was making, or where he was hiding out these days. When he wasn't at the Hall of Doom – a name that Azrael thought was grossly over exaggerated and cliché – the Joker was downright impossible to find. Most people didn't have a problem with that, however. Including Azrael. He'd only ever met his boss once and wasn't keen on meeting him again.

"You're scary, you know that?" a smooth voice said into Azrael's ear. Calculator. His ever present, and sometimes it felt like omnipresent, assistant. He was always helping from somewhere Azrael would probably never see.

"I've been told," Azrael muttered, standing up and sighing through his gas mask. It became habit to wear it now. He never knew when the Joker would send in some of his goons with toxic laughing gas. Azrael got hit with it once and vowed for that to never happen again. He could try to build up an immunity to it, like many of the Joker's henchmen had done, but he wasn't really one for keeping a perpetual smile glued to his face. In fact, Azrael hardly ever smiled at all, and was known for his scowl until he put on his mask. Now, he was just known for being creepy.

"Did you find anything on any of the cops?" Calculator asked. He always sounded genuinely interested in what it was Azrael was doing, even though he could hear the flutter of paperwork and clicking computer keys in the background. Calculator was good at pretending he cared.

"Not yet. They all have a slight clue at what we're up to, otherwise it's just random guessing. A few had some pictures of other Metas working for Jack, but none of them are real high on the totem right now. Just new recruits who keep fuckin' up." Azrael looked through the cop's wallet and found twenty dollars in the folds of it. He pocketed the money and kept searching through, seeing if there were any cards of use. He couldn't use debit or credit cards, they left a trail and many a stupid Meta were caught that way. Most of the time by the Bat, and that was the last thing Azrael wanted. Instead of finding anything else he could use, he found a picture of the cop's daughter. She looked about six years old with curly dark hair and missing teeth. He sighed and tossed the wallet aside.

Calculator chuckled darkly. "How is it you have no conscious?" he asked. "I mean, don't get me wrong kid, it's kind of cool. But scary."

"I have a conscious, Calculator, I just chose to ignore it," Azrael said. He turned back around and headed for the fun house across the street at Amusement Mile. Harley Quinn's grating voice rang out from the loud speakers. She was congratulating the goons who had managed to survive the battle with the cops, and performing a sort of moment of silence for those who hadn't. It lasted four seconds before she burst out into laughter.

"And you question my sanity," Azrael muttered, cutting his eyes at the fun house, stepping away from the large goons who were known to just pick fights for the hell of it.

"I've stopped questioning that a long time ago, kid. Best you do the same before it's too late."

Too late. He kept hearing that phrase whenever someone mentioned Jack or his girl. Get out before it's too late. Work for someone else before it's too late. There was a lot of that thrown around, and probably for good reason. Azrael was one of the few remaining veterans working for the Joker. Everyone else had died or gone insane. The other ones who were at the same tier as him were close to losing their minds, or had already but were still functioning much like Harley was. But, everyone knew the people working for Joker had the best benefits. The better tasks were given to them, the better rewards, too.

"Oh hey," Calculator said, more papers fluttering the background. "Got some news for you if you wanna' take out a big player on the Bat's side of town."

"What is it?" he asked, careful to pick and chose his assignments before just saying yes. He did that once. Ended up almost getting killed. The Joker liked to test his employees, or in other words, try to murder them. That would be the last time he went after Full House for the bounty.

"Boy Blunder is on the other side of town right now, spotted kicking some of Luthor's Metas' asses. You go give them a hand fighting him off and I'm sure Luthor will give you something good for it. A Luthor always pays his debts." Calculator chuckled quietly to himself and Azrael frowned.

"What's so funny?" he asked, and Calculator stopped laughing all together, and scoffed.

"Don't you watch HBO?" he said, offended.

"I don't own a television," Azrael said bluntly.

Calculator paused for a moment, thinking the situation over. "Fine, fair enough," he said. "I'll get one shipped to your dive later."

"Whatever. Where's Robin at?"

"Old Gotham, by the Clock Tower where Bane's boys are at."

Azrael groaned. He hated Bane. The man was a brute and sadly too intelligent as well. A bastard and a gentleman at the best and worst of times. And the big mask around his mouth gave even Azrael the creeps. He wanted one like it.

"Alright, I'll head over there. Kill Boy Blunder or keep him alive?" he asked.

"Alive, of course," Calculator said. "You think Joker wouldn't want the kid for himself?"

Azrael shrugged. He had a point. Any member of the Bat family was pretty much the Joker's and only the Joker's to torture and kill. The Metas were allowed to catch them, if they could of course, but no Meta was allowed to kill them. A pity, too. Azrael had always wanted to see what Red Robin's guts looked like when spilled on the asphalt of the city. Turns out he was just too violent for Joker's tastes.

He flexed the bird wings on his shoulders, feeling for the wind before he took off running towards it, catching a gust and lifting off the ground with one good flap. The goons on the ground all lifted their heads toward the sky and cheered stupidly as he flew off. None of them were Meta, and all of them wished they could be like the gas mask wearing, blue and white birdy in the sky. The Joker's favorite little canary.

In the air, Azrael could think again. He took off his gas mask and let his hood fall off his head and onto his shoulders. His hair, silver as the coins in Maroni's pocket, caught the moonlight and practically shined. The white on his wings was a similar shade, the feathers fluttering and flashing like fish. But the blue flecks throughout looked more like the sky beyond the moon. The stars were hard to see in Gotham. Too many city lights. Higher up, where he was now, the sky looked dark blue or black. On the ground, though, especially on the more violent nights in the city, the sky looked bright red like it was reflected the fires that were scattered around. Gotham skies were always the color of blood.

When he started getting closer to the clock tower, and hearing the shouts of angry venomized men, Azrael put on his gasmask again, and flipped up his hood. He didn't dress like many of the other Metas. Most people wanted a sort of theme to their getup, like the greats had. Joker, of course was the clown. Lex Luthor was all teched out. Circe was witchy beyond belief (and something else that rhymed with witchy, but Azrael didn't have the guts to tell anyone for fear she'd find out and cut out his heart. Or worse). So many of the Metas had armor that made them look like lions or demons or mecha warriors. Whereas Azreal took what he could get. He was mixmatched through and through. He had expensive body armor on his chest that looked like muscles and bones, but other than that he had on a pair of gloves he'd stolen from a biker, jeans, and boots. Aside from the hood and gas mask, he didn't look very threatening.

Only to prove how nonthreatening he looked, when Bane's thugs saw him, they burst into laughter. They were known for taking out weaker Metas, and Azrael certainly didn't look strong and tough like they were. He was wiry, and thin, and almost on the short side. But that didn't stop him. He was fast and vicious, and moved like an animal when he fought. He landed on the concrete and crouched down low when the steroid pumping thugs chuckled and moved closer to him, cracking their knuckles.

The first one swung a punch and Azrael ducked down, swiping his foot underneath the man and knocking the guy to the ground with a heavy thud. Another goon ran up and Azrael jumped over him, landing on the guy's shoulders. He knelt down, and wrapped his fingers around the man's skull. The man started to scream, running around wildly, clawing at Azrael's hands, doing anything to get him away from his head, but Azrael wouldn't let go. It looked like steam was rolling off of them, but it was cold, and it spilled onto the ground and tumbled across the concrete, freezing everything it touched. The man couldn't scream anymore, and he had given up on clawing at his head. All that came out of his mouth was a slight hiss, the last of the warm air escaping his lungs, having a hard time traveling past his frozen throat. He jumped off the guy, who's head hit the ground and shattered. The other goons all scrambled over each other to run away.

"Calculator," Azrael began, "where's Boy Blunder- augh!" Something hit him in the head. Hard. Azrael fell to the ground and couldn't make sense of where the air had gone when it had just been in his lungs two seconds ago, or why there was something hard and painful keeping him from standing up. He later realized that was the ground, and he just kept trying to do a headstand for a moment.

"And who sent you?" someone called. "Lex Luthor?"

Azrael pulled himself to his feet, shaking his head and watching his wobbling. Red Robin stood on the edge of the clock tower, hunched over like a gargoyle protecting his city. He learned from the Bat well.

"Joker," Azrael said. "Courtesy call to help out a mutual friend."

Robin stood up, holding his arms out and laughing. "Aw, he really does care!" he said, his chuckle echoing around the whole area.

Azrael tilted his head to the side. "Sorry. I meant Lex." He rushed forward, jumping and swinging himself around in the air, driving his foot towards Robin's head. Boy Blunder ducked out of the way, grabbing knives from his belt and chucking them. Azrael twisted himself in the air, just barely missing the knives before swooping down, ice crawling up his hands. He tried to grab for Robin's throat or his head, but the guy was tricky. He was almost slick to grab, and too quick like a snake or a lizard. Azrael remembered being little and chasing the blue tailed skinks down his driveway, just barely managing to hold one in his hands before it slipped through his fingers.

Robin chuckled. "You're too slow, Meta!" he said, slipping past Azrael. "You're supposed to be superhuman, aren't you? Come on!"

Azrael growled, landing on the ground and folding his wings close against his back. He yanked his two swords from their sheathes on his belt, the sound of metal against metal echoing against the buildings.

"You can't let him go," Calculator said quickly.

"I know!" Azrael yelled, charging after Robin, who's eyes got big behind his mask when he saw the swords. He started running down the street, evading through cars and past people. Azrael jumped and spread his wings out, coasting over the vehicles, gaining on Boy Blunder.

"He's calling for help!" Calculator yelled.

"Then jam his comms!" Azrael snapped back.

Calculator swore and started typing away furiously at one of his probably many keyboards. Azrael turned sharp, almost directly over Robin, who took another turn into an alley.

"It's too late," Calculator said. "He got the word out, you need to get the hell out of there!" Robin stopped, looking up at a building that blocked the alley. Dead end for Boy Blunder. He whirled around and Azrael landed on the ground, his shoulders hunched and his breath ragged through his mask.

"Azrael!" Calculator yelled.

Robin shook his head, looking around wildly for a way out.

"_Azrael_!"

Azrael charged again, attacking as fast as he could. Robin tried to block each swing, tried to brush them off his arms and use whatever skills he had to put Azrael's own attacks against him until Joker's own boy wonder drove the blades into Robin's shoulders.

Robin screeched until Azrael punched him hard in the head. He fell limp, stuck against the brick wall with the swords holding him up. Calculator went silent through the comms system for a moment before swearing softly, like a prayer almost.

"You're not supposed to kill him," he muttered, like he was scared to say anything.

"I didn't," Azrael said, ripping the swords out of Boy Blunder. He fell to the ground with a wet smack, blood seeping out of him and spreading across the black asphalt, soaking into the bottom of Azrael's boots. He picked up Robin and threw him over his shoulder.

"How are we looking on the E.T.A. for his back up?" he asked, pushing off the ground and flapping hard to stay up. Boy Blunder was heavier than he looked.

"You need to hurry. I called for some help for you just in case, but if the Bat gets there, you just need to drop the kid and run." Calculator's voice was shaking. Azrael had never heard him sound so scared before, but it wasn't his problem. He just needed to get out of there. Rather than taking the skies where everyone would be looking for him, he kicked open the nearest storm drain cover, and jumped down it, covering it back up behind him before he continued on.

The storm drains in real life were not like the ones he saw in cartoons and video games. They weren't spacious enough for a huge crocodile to crawl through, and were barely big enough for a nineteen-year-old boy, let alone two of them. Azrael, however, had no qualms against dragging Boy Blunder through the mess and the muck. Rats squeaked past them, and bugs flew in Azrael's face every few seconds as if his head was a light bulb. Everything reeked, even through his gas mask. It was a living hell to be under Gotham city, but Azrael still did it. He had a job to do, and he was going finish it. The things he did for the Joker.


End file.
